It was a couple of years ago now, but I remember it well as one of my first ever sugar experiences, and my first trip abroad with a sugar daddy. I’d met him in the morning for coffee, and like the spontaneous fool I was, I had agreed then to go away with him to Paris that same afternoon. I rushed home to pack a small bag and met him outside St. Pancras. He (we’ll call him Tim), wasn’t much of a looker, but he spoke softly and we enjoyed quiet and introspective conversation as we Eurostar-ed our way to gay Paree!
When we got to the hotel, Tim informed me that two other sugar babies would be joining us, and with a growing smile explained that they didn’t know that there would be any other girls there. I laughed along, slightly disconcerted at this idea. When each girl arrived they were both super chill about the whole thing. They were Parisian and beautiful, glamorous and grown up, it seemed that they had done this kind of thing before. They were in their late 20s and I was the baby at 22- this was all brand new.
We all played around a little in the hotel room before dining in the summer evening air at Au Pied de Cochon and receiving plenty of strange looks from the other diners. We ordered a feast, and talked freely and excitedly about nothing in particular. I had told one friend that I was going away, but apart from that nobody knew. With the soft taste of red wine in my mouth, I smiled from ear to ear at the secrecy of being in Paris with these complete strangers whom I loved in that moment, and the sky pale blue and dusky, the moon glowing up in the corner of the sky- the whole world a big painting.
By the time it was dark, we were all crammed into a taxi, dance music playing and my head stuck out of the window as we zoomed through a tunnel and emerged into the glistening city. We pulled up at a dark, narrow street outside a large, old nondescript door. I wore a very short black mini, and glassy high heels (I never wear high heels) – I was feeling like some sort of little movie star. When the door opened, we were greeted by a doorman. Tim paid for our entry, we then had to hand over our bags and phones before we descended the narrow stairway. It was a small-ish space, lit in red, drenched in red, elaborate wallpaper, velvet draped everywhere and enormous glass bowls dotted around filled with candy – I was in love. I felt like I’d just walked into a David Lynch film.
The place was sort of empty, it was still early. We sat at a small table, on high chair stools, and shyly watched the other people, who watched us back. The night was young. There was a middle aged French couple, the man eyed us up as the woman touched and kissed him. I felt a slight tinge of sadness to it. I sipped vodka as Tim sat between us, hands on our legs. We all kissed each other as the room very gradually became busier. I hopped off my stool and went exploring. There were a handful of little cave-like private rooms with big archways for doors. Inside them action was beginning on the plush velvet seating- couples or throuples making out and touching. Another room was completely dark with a pair of handcuffs hanging from the ceiling.
The demographic seemed older than I, most people being 30+. I wandered around gleefully, returning to Tim and the girls occasionally. At one point I removed my shoes and fairied around eyeing men and lapping up attention. It then turned very quickly, as if I blinked and suddenly everyone was naked. Everywhere you looked there were people fucking, sucking, touching, watching. I had never experienced anything like it.
Tim found me in the crowd, still dressed but allowing myself to be touched by an older guy. He was amused at how much I seemed to be enjoying the whole thing. Soon I was on my knees for Tim and people gathered around us in a semicircle, watching, touching my head, pushing it into him. It was a surreal moment, both exciting and hilarious at once and at one point I jumped up quickly, and left the crowd, stupidly thrilled by my own sudden exit.
It was nice, the choice to be a spectator or participant. I liked the idea of being able to come here and view it like a more sex-positive version of a nightclub, without feeling obligated to fully participate. I spent the remainder of my night flitting around, watching people fucking, and half joining, then moving onto the next thing before I could get too involved. I bumped into one of the girls in the crowd and as we recognised each other in the red lights, we drunkenly laughed and kissed with love, and I had a feeling that this was what Paris was all about. Eventually Tim found me and told me it was time to leave, so I fetched my heels and joined them to go back to the hotel for a sleepless night of wild sex.
So…closing thoughts? My Les Chandelles experience did not disappoint, especially because I had never been to a sex club before and had no expectations. The entrancing music and beguiling space immediately won me over, the crowd less so. It was quite traditional- I didn’t see much diversity or queer couples, and the men seemed to dominate the space more than the women. It also had a hint of seediness…but isn’t that kind of the point?
If you’re put off by the thought of leery older men then I wouldn’t recommend it, but if like me you’re a total perv who doesn’t mind at all, I definitely would. Looking back now, it all seems like a fever dream of red velvet and blurry flesh, rhythmic movements and the distant sound of piano music. I’ve been to a couple of other sex clubs since, but Les Chandelles remains my favourite for now.
Iso
Iso is a writer and filmmaker based in East London. She is passionate about all things erotic and leads a sexy, shame-free life in hope that she can inspire others to do the same. Originally from a Northern seaside town, she is naturally drawn to the best things in life: candyfloss, trashy karaoke bars and heart-shaped sunglasses.
